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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870967">Are These My Colors You’re Wearing?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina'>Sparcina</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Iron Webs to Covet [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Voyeurism, Bottom Peter Parker, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, More Like Eavesdropping, Pining, Secret Not So Secret Crush, Top Tony Stark, Virgin Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:54:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tony passed the guestroom he insisted Peter consider as his home-away-from-home, a muffled sound gave him pause. </p><p>He shook his head with a wry smile. The kid was probably working on his homework and talking to himself. Or talking in his sleep. Peter talked a lot, and Tony loved to listen. Loved him, period, but that wasn’t why Tony remained rooted to the spot as another sound came through the door.</p><p>A moan. Clearly audible, unmistakable for anything else. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Iron Webs to Covet [27]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/779883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Smut 4 Smut 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Are These My Colors You’re Wearing?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissoffools/gifts">kissoffools</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear kissoffools, what wonderful prompts you have! There's one from your letter I literally copied and pasted in the story ;)</p><p>Betaed by the wonderful *whenfandomscollide*. Thank you 3000!</p><p>*This fic is part of an exchange with an anonymous period and has been re-dated for author reveals. Sorry if you've seen it already!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tony liked to think he had some form of self-control. Most days, he wasn’t even lying to himself. He also liked to put people in neat little boxes, even if he preferred to think outside of it. It was just… convenient. Something he did for fun, during stupid meetings. During the last one, some nonsensical hairsplitting business about the terms of a small merger he couldn’t care less about, he’d whiled away the time classing people into four neat little categories.</p><p>A) Looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you;</p><p>B) Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll;</p><p>C) Looks like a cinnamon roll and is also a cinnamon roll;</p><p>D) Looks like they could kill you and would actually kill you.</p><p>One-Eye Boredom was an undiscussable D, and Pepper was a straight A unless she was having a bad day (thankfully, she had recovered nicely from her latest Tony-caused breakdown and steered clear of the D Zone). Most of the assholes at that meeting had been various shades of B.</p><p>Only one person fit the C to a T: Peter Parker, cinnamon roll extraordinaire. Sweet in every way, a constant reminder that life was worth living. Sure, his spider powers and enhanced metabolism enabled him to incapacitate foes with his pinkie, but one of the kid’s mottos in life was <em>do no harm</em>.</p><p>That, and <em>please Tony</em>.</p><p>The kid’s eagerness around Tony wasn’t good for his blood pressure. The little devil on Tony’s shoulder, neither Pepper nor Rhodey-shaped, kept coming up with lewd suggestions, and while Tony was pretty sure Peter would look mouth-watering bent over his worktable with a red and gold thong and nothing else except a fetching blush, he wasn’t about to go ahead and seduce the kid. For one thing, Peter was barely old enough <em>not </em>to be called a kid. Furthermore, there was the fact that Peter had spent most of his teen years worshiping the ground Tony walked on. The kid-who-wasn’t-quite-a-kid-anymore may not wear such rose-tinted glasses these days, but his eagerness was still intact.</p><p>Last but not least, Peter was clearly not into boys, and this was the best reason for Tony to shut up already about his little fantasies and be a good, platonic friend/mentor to Peter.</p><p>Tony learned to ignore the voice of temptation, and take comfort in what he could have. Peter’s bi-weekly visits to the Compound. All the time they spent tinkering in the lab. Movie night, when it was only the two of them. The simple pleasure of making Peter discover another type of food. The kick he got out of buying the kid something he hadn’t asked for, but obviously needed, or wanted. Tony treasured every hug, every single smile.</p><p>And when it dawned on him that the feeling warming him up at night went far beyond lust, he wondered why it took him so damn long to put the right name on it.</p><p>*</p><p>The first clue Tony had that Peter might like his own gender after all came in the shape of a golden and red dildo in Peter’s room, half-hidden by a textbook on advanced quantum mechanics.</p><p>Tony’s fingers hovered an inch above the toy. It was slim, and small, but not the smallest model either. Tony told himself he was imagining things. And when hitting his shin on the desk (totally by accident) assured him that this fantasy came to life was very real, he told himself that it didn’t mean that Peter fantasized about <em>him </em>like that. Sure, the dildo was Iron Man’s colors, but Peter could have gotten it as a gift from some… friend. Or bought it because it was on discount, or something.</p><p>Tony left the room feeling strangely light-headed. Was Peter <em>exploring</em>? Was there a matching strap-on he hadn’t seen, hidden away in a girlfriend’s purse?</p><p>The thought of Peter figuring out his own body, and the web of lusty thoughts expanding from it, was still firmly at the forefront of his mind as he passed out sometime after sunrise, an empty glass of scotch on the cold pillow at his side.</p><p>*</p><p>For a couple of weeks, Tony pretended he hadn’t seen anything. For having asked Pepper once, he knew that his acting skills were good, but not that good. Thankfully, the kid was preparing for his midterms, and didn’t ask too many uncomfortable questions. Tony spent his usual time in the lab (too much), and made a dent in the pile of SI paperwork awaiting him (to Pepper’s instant suspicion).</p><p>He didn’t make the mistake of returning to Peter's room.</p><p>In the end, he didn’t even need to.</p><p>He stumbled upon his second clue that Peter was interested in men eighteen days after the Discovery (it certainly warranted a capital). Friday had just kicked him out of his lab, claiming that he’d been there no less than twenty-one hours and fifteen minutes, and Tony was dragging his feet to his bedroom. He was tired, and the closer he got to his room, the more his bed appealed to him. Smart AI.</p><p>When Tony passed the guestroom he insisted Peter consider as his home-away-from-home, a muffled sound gave him pause. </p><p>He shook his head with a wry smile. The kid was probably working on his homework and talking to himself. Or talking in his sleep. Peter talked a lot, and Tony loved to listen. Loved him, period, but that wasn’t why Tony remained rooted to the spot as another sound came through the door.</p><p>A moan. Clearly audible, unmistakable for anything else - and not the kind someone made out of frustration either.</p><p>Was the kid having a wet dream? Unable to help himself, Tony crept towards the door and waited with bated breath for auditory details. He wouldn’t go in Peter’s room, he told himself. He wasn’t <em>that </em>much of a pervert, even though he could sense how brittle his self-control had become recently.</p><p>“Ah…”</p><p>Another moan, louder. Tony’s breath stuttered. The image of Peter fucking himself on a dildo with Tony’s colors entered his mind, and refused to leave.</p><p>“N-nh…”</p><p>Tony kept his hands on the door. It was either that, or touch himself, and that last thread of his self-control wasn’t broken just yet.</p><p>And then:</p><p>“Ah… Mr. Stark, please…”</p><p>Tony’s cock filled out so fast it made him dizzy. He stumbled back, heart hammering in his chest. Fuck. Had he imagined the whole thing or had Peter just-</p><p>“Mr. Stark!”</p><p><em>That </em>cry was very clear. No ambiguity possible here. Tony felt a wall at his back, and stayed there, teetering on the edge between dream and reality. Peter was into men alright. Even better, he wanted <em>Tony</em>.</p><p>Tony didn’t move for the longest time, torn between guilt and excitement, sense and passion. He’d been good, hadn’t he? He hadn’t made a move on Peter yet, hadn’t done anything that could be construed as flirting… right?</p><p>Would it matter if he had, though? Peter was eighteen - perfectly legal in the state of New York. More importantly maybe, he wasn’t the shy, doe-eyed, worshiping boy he’d once been. The Peter behind that door was making a life of his own, and he. Liked. Tony.</p><p>Or rather: <em>Mr. Stark</em>.</p><p>Tony didn’t run to his own bedroom, but it was a close thing. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, he leaned back against it and shoved a hand down his pants. He was hard as a rock from hearing Peter touching himself, moaning his fucking name, and while he stroked himself just that side of too fast, he fantasized about all the other noises he could coax from the sublime creature on the other side of the corridor.</p><p>He came in a matter of minutes, Peter’s breathy ‘<em>Mr. Stark!</em>’ still crystal clear in his ears.</p><p>*</p><p>Things were awkward for a while.</p><p>Mostly in Tony’s head. The fantasies remained the same, but there was an added quality to them now: realism. Whenever he pictured them together in bed, he heard those moans again, that muffled shout, and part of his mind wanted to pretend it was a memory of their lovemaking, rather than a projection of his secret desire. And when he interacted with Peter, when their hands brushed in the lab, their thighs touched on the sofa on movie nights, he thought back to that night, to his fantasies, and it all became a tangled mess of sounds and fluids and textures he never wanted to forget.</p><p>“I think I’m going mad,” he told Rhodey one night on the phone.</p><p>“For any reason you haven’t shared yet?”</p><p>Tony heard the concern beneath the amusement, and dug the heel of one palm into his eyes. Fuck, his head hurt. His dick hurt, too, because apparently jerking off three times a day at sixteen wasn’t the same at forty-eight.</p><p>“How’s the wife?” he drawled, and just like that, his own shortcomings weren’t the subject of conversation anymore.</p><p>*</p><p>One splendid Friday evening - or night; Tony had lost track of time somewhere between 5 pm and midnight - the lab was buzzing with creative energy. Peter was tinkering with chemicals at his own workstation, the little line Tony wanted to kiss so fucking much right there on his otherwise smooth brow. Tony was not thinking about getting Peter out of those sinful tight jeans and shirt, and neither was he fantasizing about calling his tailor to get that lithe body into a one-of-a-kind gold and red suit. Or maybe dark red, because that color would look amazing with the kid’s complexion and sharp brown eyes.</p><p>Eyes that suddenly veered his way, because Peter’s acute senses were annoying like that sometimes and <em>what if he knew that Tony had stood on the other side of his door the other day and listened?</em></p><p>Before Tony could have a heart attack, Peter opened his mouth.</p><p>And gave him a heart attack.</p><p>“Mr. Stark, I thought I was straight, but I’m not sure anymore.”</p><p>A crashing sound alerted Tony to the fact that he’d been holding something pretty expensive just moments ago. He didn’t care. Peter was standing a few feet away, cheeks an enticing shade of pink, and he was biting down on his lip in a way that never failed to get Tony hot and bothered.</p><p>“Are you coming out to me right now?” Tony managed to ask. His throat felt dry. The rest of him felt hot. Was Friday messing with the environmental settings again? “’Cause that’s okay. I mean. Gay, bi, trans, non-binary…You’re still you, kid.”</p><p>“And you like me, right?”</p><p>As sweet as Peter was, there was no denying the sharpness of his honesty. Tony struggled for an appropriate answer as his brain shut down, then rebooted. “Of course, I like you.” Was <em>he </em>blushing? His face sure felt warm. And his dick, the traitor, was getting interested in that conversation - and Peter’s darkening blush. “Who wouldn’t like you?”</p><p>“I don’t mean like that,” Peter said, so low Tony almost didn’t hear him. “I just… Tony.”</p><p>It was the first time the kid had used his given name, which probably explained why Tony was in shock and didn’t react when he was backed up against his own desk. Or when Peter kissed him. The kiss was fast, dry, a small peck that would have made Tony laugh, had it been anyone else.</p><p>“Kid-”</p><p>“It’s okay.” Peter stumbled back, and almost tripped over DUM-E’s latest aberration. “I know you don’t- I mean, I wasn’t sure, and I just- Fuck, I’m such an idiot…”</p><p>A low groan built in Tony’s chest. It shut Peter right up.</p><p>“What do you want, Pete?” Tony made the question as open and gentle as possible. No pressure. No expectations. The little demon perched on Tony’s shoulder gave a roar of victory anyway as Peter met his eyes. The kid’s gaze was heated, firm, full of those wonderful things Tony couldn’t stop dreaming about - but hadn’t let himself act on. </p><p>“You,” Peter said, the word startingly loud in the quiet lab. He took a step back towards Tony. “You are…” Another step. “For the longest time, you were an ideal, someone I wanted to be like. It took me some time… too long…” He licked his lips, eyes darting to the remaining space between Tony and him. “To realize that what I truly wanted was to <em>be </em>with you.”</p><p>“As a friend?” Tony asked, because he wasn’t going to coerce Peter into this, he wasn’t-</p><p>“At first.” A nervous smile flashed on the kid’s face. “But then I began…thinking about you.”</p><p>“Thinking?”</p><p>“You know.”</p><p>“I don’t,” Tony lied, because he wasn’t supposed to know, not like this.</p><p>Peter laid a hand on Tony’s chest, just above the arc reactor. “When I kiss a girl. When I’m, er, alone, thinking about… stuff.”</p><p>“Stuff?”</p><p>“You.”</p><p>Tony covered the hand that could crush his heart into a pulp with his own, callused and so weak in comparison.</p><p>“You know I’m forty-eight, right?”</p><p>Peter scoffed. “You know you’re hot, right?”</p><p>“Is that what this is about?” Tony forced himself to smile. “’Cause I don’t mind, if you only want to, you know, explore. I can give you that.” <em>I can give you so much pleasure you’ll be ruined for anyone else</em>, Tony thought fiercely, and managed to rein in the possessive beast. “I want you to feel safe, happy.”</p><p>“And you want me?”</p><p>“I do.” Tony framed Peter’s face with his hands, and took a deep breath. “I really do.”</p><p>Their next kiss wasn’t a hurried, hesitant peck - it was deep, heated, full of tongue and teeth and suppressed fantasies. Peter remained passive at the start, moaning in Tony’s mouth, hands fisted in Tony’s shirt, but after a brief pause to breathe, he pushed his tongue inside Tony’s mouth, and licked inside it with ravenous hunger, just like in every dream Tony had ever had. When Tony felt the hard length of the kid’s dick against his own, he forced his hips to remain still, to let the kid set the rhythm, and set the rhythm Peter did, pushing his hips once, twice, and then he tensed up, and bit down on Tony’s bottom lip so hard he drew blood.</p><p>Tony didn’t mind. He didn’t care about the torn shirt, either. Turned on so fucking much he could barely think at all, he pushed Peter back just enough to take in the blissed-out expression on his face.</p><p>“Did you just come?” he asked in wonder.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m just so sensitive, with my senses, and you were-”</p><p>“Oh, trust me, I’m not complaining.”</p><p>“But I… Oh God, Mr. Stark, I <em>bit </em>you!”</p><p>“It will heal.” Tony shrugged and wiped what little blood there was with his thumb. “Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>Peter still looked devastated. “But. But. I tore off your shirt!”</p><p>“Which was hot as hell, to be honest. You can tear all my clothes to pieces, sweetheart. Can I get your pants off you? They must be getting uncomfortable.”</p><p>Peter hesitated.</p><p>Tony hesitated in turn. “We don’t have to do anything else.”</p><p>“I want to!” Peter shook off the remains of Tony’s shirt with a sheepish smile. “I’m just, er, new to this.”</p><p>Tony’s dick twitched. “Anything specific you’d like to try? Anything you don’t like-”</p><p>“You can do anything you want to me.”</p><p>Tony’s mind spun. “Fuck, kid. You can’t say things like that.”</p><p>“Why not?” Peter splayed his hands over Tony’s naked chest, framing the arc reactor. “I want you. And I trust you.”</p><p>Tony could work with that.</p><p>*</p><p>They relocated to Tony’s bedroom because it would be more comfortable, but, more importantly, because it would give Tony some time to cool off… and Peter the opportunity to decide this was a bad idea.</p><p>“Could you teach me how to suck you off?” was the first thing out of Peter’s mouth once the door closed.</p><p>Tony froze. There were two things about that statement that caused what little blood was left in his brain to relocate south.</p><p>First: the fact that Peter wanted to be taught how to suck cock by <em>him</em>. It implied that Peter didn’t know, and since blow jobs usually happened before anal, Tony could assume Peter hadn’t done much <em>exploring </em>with his own gender. Or the toy.</p><p>Second: Peter’s obvious eagerness. It was in the tone of his voice, in the gleam of his eyes, in the way he sat down on the bed with an expectant yet shy expression that made Tony want to give him the world.</p><p>“I can teach you,” he rasped.</p><p>And then, he sank to his knees in front of Peter.</p><p>“OhmygodMisterStark!”</p><p>Tony’s erection hadn’t flagged on the walk to his room, and the thrill he felt at licking the wet denim covering Peter’s hardening cock only made him all that much more desperate to take the kid apart. Taking hold of those narrow hips some part of him really wished he could mark for a day or two, he mouthed at Peter’s erection until the wet patch at the front was more saliva than come. He couldn’t wait to get a more intimate taste.</p><p>He couldn’t wait for <em>Peter’s </em>mouth on his cock, but everything in its own time.</p><p>“Keep your teeth tucked behind your lips when you suck,” he instructed as he helped Peter out of his pants and underwear. He didn’t stutter as he saw the color of his underwear - gold and red - but he probably forgot to breathe. <em>Christ</em>. “Don’t try to take too much at first. Take your time. Touch my balls, if you like.” He rubbed one knuckle against the kid’s sack and chuckled with his lips against Peter’s tip when the kid startled. “You can rub yourself on my foot while you’re at it.” He demonstrated, to Peter’s visible arousal. “Or, if you want, you can play with your ass.”</p><p>“I have a toy,” Peter blurted out.</p><p>“I know,” Tony replied too fast.</p><p>Peter went still, and not in a good way. “Did you… How do you…”</p><p>Tony would have very much liked to invent time travel right now. “You sent me looking for a tool you’d forgotten. The toy was kind of in my search zone.”</p><p>“OhGod.”</p><p><em>Here goes nothing</em>, Tony thought, and his erection did flag, this time, despite the memory being all kinds of hot. “I also happened to pass by your room one night a few weeks ago. You were… busy.”</p><p>Peter’s face went white. Then red again.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “Mi casa es su casa. You can do whatever you want in your room, and I should-  I should have walked on.”</p><p>“You <em>listened</em>?”</p><p>“Hey, I’m not made of steel, all right?”</p><p>“Just of iron,” Peter quipped back, eyes going wide at his own boldness. “Er, so…”</p><p>“Apology accepted?”</p><p>Peter ignored the question. “… you thought that was hot? Me trying out the toy?”</p><p>Tony licked his lips, smile losing its polite edge when Peter’s focus zeroed in on his mouth. He dug his thumbs into Peter’s thighs and watched as the flush on Peter’s cheeks and throat traveled down all the way to his navel, past a pair of pert nipples Tony really wanted to tease later on.</p><p>
  <em>All right, then.</em>
</p><p>“Is that what you were doing, then?” he purred. “Fucking yourself on the toy painted in my colors, wishing for my cock?”</p><p>Peter gave a frantic nod, and his dick leaked more pearly fluid. Tony licked it off, unable to help himself. The kid was so wet, and he tasted so good. Tony told him so while he unbuttoned his own pants.</p><p>“Mr. Stark!”</p><p>“That’s what you said when you came, too. Do you still want to suck my dick?”</p><p>The kid was a quick study. He sucked and licked at Tony’s length with obvious enthusiasm, gagging a little when he took too much, and Christ, Tony had to reopen the cut on his lip to distract himself from the temptation that was fucking Peter’s sweet mouth.</p><p>“Doing good, kid.” He grunted as Peter swallowed, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Look so pretty on your knees like that.”</p><p>Peter reached between his own legs and twisted his arm. Tony couldn’t see what he was doing, but he knew. And the knowledge that Peter was pushing a finger inside his tight little hole yanked him so close to the edge it only took a few seconds - and Peter taking him just a little too deep too fast - for him to climax.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>Peter had only half-heeded Tony’s warning and got the load on his face. Tony hauled him off the floor and kissed his own come from Peter’s lips.</p><p>“Sorry about that,” he whispered as he wiped the rest of his semen off the kid’s face.</p><p>“I’m not,” Peter said.</p><p>His smile was the eager one Tony wanted to see every morning for the rest of his life. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Peter would spend a lot more nights at the Compound from now on. In Tony’s bed.</p><p>“What do you want to do now, sweetheart?” </p><p>*</p><p>Tony was the first man Peter had ever wanted to be with, and Peter was very eager about it.</p><p>“I’ve… never… oh God, Mr. Stark!”</p><p>“Continue talking like that and I might be able to fuck you, after all.”</p><p>The heat that had been pooling in Tony’s belly ever since Peter shed his clothes and sat down on his bed like he owned it - which he totally did, in Tony’s mind - turned to an inferno. Peter’s hole was pink, velvety-soft, and virginal tight. If Tony had to bet, he’d say that Peter had used that toy only once or twice. He had to use a lot of lube to get the second finger in, and he spent a long time sucking off the kid’s cock before slipping in a third.</p><p>“So full.” Peter’s ass spasmed around the digits. “And you’re… You’re not even in.”</p><p>“We can stop.”</p><p>“Don’t, I’m - Please, yes, <em>there</em>!”</p><p>Tony massaged the kid’s prostate like a man on a mission, which he was, after all, and fuck, maybe he should retire from the Avengers and focus on that for the rest of his days? Fucking Peter and playing around with him in the lab sure sounded like his perfect idea of retirement.</p><p>“Oh my God, I can’t, this never, I never…”</p><p>“Just let it happen, baby.” Tony’s hand was cramping, but there was no fucking way he was stopping until Peter flooded his mouth again. The kid was leaking so much now that Tony felt obliged to test the limits of his own flexibility and lap it off. “You close, aren’t you? You don’t even need my mouth on your cock, but you’ve got it anyway, because I can’t help myself.”</p><p>He saw Peter’s eyes widen slightly, and couldn’t begin to guess if it was the new pitch of his voice, the words themselves, or the hunger Tony made no effort to hide from his expression. It thrilled him, not to know just yet all that made the kid tick. To be the one who would figure it out and rock Peter’s world from now on.</p><p>There would be <em>no </em>contenders.</p><p>“Come on,” he purred, and upped the pace some more, ignoring the flaring pain in his wrist. “You need to be fully relaxed to take my cock. You still want it?”</p><p>The kid’s right leg spasmed, and his ass squeezed Tony’s fingers like a vice. “Y-Yes…”</p><p>Tony kissed the inside of Peter’s thigh, where the skin was so soft he wanted to weep. “So gorgeous, so needy…” The whining sound was music to his ears. He fisted his half-hard cock. He was going to be able to fuck the kid, after all. In ten minutes or so. His wrist could take it. “You like it when I fuck your little hole with my fingers? Better than that toy? There was my name on it, but it can’t be…” He rotated his aching wrist a fraction and rubbed the pad of his fingers against that bundle of nerves hard, fast. “…that precise, I bet.”</p><p>“Mr. Stark!”</p><p>God, the things Peter did for his ego.</p><p>*</p><p>They didn’t use a condom. Tony wasn’t sleeping around these days, and he’d tested clean last month. As for Peter…</p><p>“You’ll be my first,” he’d assured Tony with a sweet little smile. “I mean, the first guy. Not that I want another one, I just… You’re the only one I want.”</p><p>Tony had kissed him, then. They’d actually forgotten about the fucking for a while, too busy exchanging the same three words in the language of lips and tongue. Tony was bad with words - when he wasn’t using them as a weapon. They contained too much meaning, or too little. He wanted to make Peter feel them, deep inside him, and no, he wasn’t thinking with his cock just then.</p><p>“Need you, Mr. Stark.”</p><p>As much as Tony liked to hear Peter beg, that wasn’t what he was after right now. He slicked up, Peter’s hooded eyes scorching on him, and hooked both of the kid’s knees over his shoulders. He’d offered a more comfortable position, but Peter had been adamant he wanted to see him.</p><p>“Here we go. Nice and slow.”</p><p>Tony rubbed the head of his cock against the kid’s lubed hole, not teasing as much as giving the kid some time to relax. Peter was still excruciatingly tight when Tony pushed in, but the muffled sound he let out when the head popped in wasn’t one of pain, merely of discomfort. Tony waited.</p><p>“You’re big,” Peter said, and chuckled at whatever expression crossed Tony’s face. “I shouldn’t - <em>ah </em>- feed your ego like that, should I?”</p><p>“Probably not,” Tony agreed, heart chock-full with the feeling that made him feel alive. “Still good?”</p><p>“Still good.”</p><p>He went slow. Tonight, he wasn’t fucking Peter; he was making love to him. Drinking in the kid’s reactions as he thrust in and out of him at a slow, languid pace.</p><p>“You feel so good,” he confessed, peppering kisses up one calf. “So warm and wet. How does it feel for you?”</p><p>“Good. Like being full.”</p><p>In the darkness of the bedroom, Peter’s eyes were almost surreal, lit up by the arc reactor.</p><p>He was <em>his</em>.</p><p>*</p><p>Peter came a second time on his back, and then a third time about half an hour later, on his side with Tony behind him, thrusting slow and languid. They slept for a while afterwards, and only got out of bed to eat, and take a bath. Peter blew him in it, and Tony almost cracked his skull open on the marble when he came.</p><p>“Baths are dangerous,” Peter declared, standing between the bath and Tony while he dried him off. “We’d better get back in bed.”</p><p>“Beds are safer,” Tony agreed, but inside, he was laughing. Christ, the kid’s protective streak was cute as fuck. “Shotgun the big spoon.”</p><p>“I’ve always loved cuddling.”</p><p>Tony had to kiss Peter’s blush away. And keep kissing him as they cuddled in bed.</p><p>Self-control was overrated. </p>
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